


Stay Warm

by doodledinmypants



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Zombies Write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-16 15:59:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/541268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodledinmypants/pseuds/doodledinmypants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Sam forgets that his runners can hear everything that he says. Winter is coming, and Abel Township has a booming black market. It’s amazing what becomes valuable after the world has ended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay Warm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PercyByssheShelley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PercyByssheShelley/gifts).



> This was my trade for the Zombies, Write! challenge.
> 
> Title: Stay Warm
> 
> Word Count: 1021 (according to Open Office... )
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> Pairings: Jack/Eugene, Sam/Runner 5 (female)

Sam's feet were freezing.

It was amazing what one missed since the world ended. It wasn't so long ago that the Abel Township operator was melting from the heat in his tiny metal shack, but now that autumn was moving into winter at a brisk jog, he wondered if he could talk Janine into sparing him an extra blanket, or some hot water bottles, or (and this was a pipe dream if ever there were one) perhaps a small electric heater. At this point, he'd even take a pair of those stupid looking fuzzy boots that had been popular before the outbreak. At least they looked warm.

“All right, Runner Five,” he said, doing his level best to keep his chattering teeth from interfering with his work, “keep up that pace, you're nearly at the warehouse. There should be supplies there. You've got your list.”

He sneezed, then rubbed at his nose, which felt like a blob of frozen dough stuck on his face. “Sorry,” he muttered into the headset, then smiled when his runner replied with a “Gezundheit.”

“The area's been clear for ages, but I'll be keeping an eye on you from here, all the same,” Sam said. “I'm switching you over to Radio Abel for now. Check in if you need anything.” 

Before he switched off, however, Runner Five heard very distinctly: “I would kill for some woolly socks...”

…

“What have we got for our listeners today, Eugene?” Jack asked. He twirled idly in his chair, which was quite a feat, considering they hardly had room for their knees and elbows in the cramped shack that doubled as their living quarters and radio station. 

Eugene rifled through the stack of note cards in his lap. “Trade is booming now that the weather has turned chilly,” he announced, and he'd gone all 'journalist mode' again, which Jack refused to admit he found unbearably sexy. “We've got a lot of requests for warm clothing, blankets, and instant hot drink packets. If you're sitting on a stash of any of those things, you're in luck; people are willing to trade just about anything for a good pair of gloves right now.”

“Speaking of which, we could use a couple pairs of those here,” Jack piped in helpfully. “And boots. Well, only one boot, in Eugene's case.” Eugene smacked him in the arm for that one, but Jack was already laughing and leaning away as far as his chair and the limited space would allow.

“Sorry about that; my partner thinks he's funny,” Eugene said. “Anyway, let's keep that trade going. Nobody wants to freeze this winter. Stay safe out there, listeners.”

“And stay warm,” added Jack.

…

Runner Five was practically mobbed the instant she returned through the gates. Seven and Eight did their best to clear a path, but Five's backpack was practically torn from her as she ducked through the crowd. Supplies were dumped on the ground unceremoniously, snatched up, and vanished into the dispersing mass of Abel's population. Sam, watching from the comm shack's only window, found it ironic that she'd had an easier time with the zombies today.

Five was his last runner for the morning, so he had a moment to relax and... continue freezing. Getting up from his seat, he did a little hopping shuffle, mindful of his still healing foot. He really needed to get some warmer clothes. Jack and Eugene had been talking about trade going on in the quad that day. He wondered if he had anything worth trading. He glanced around the shack, which, aside from the comms equipment and a sad, empty little jar of marmite, didn't have much to offer. 

A knock came at the door to the shack, the thin, splintery planks nearly shaking themselves apart under the assault. Wind whistled in through the gaps in the boards. “It's not locked,” he sighed. “It's barely even a door.” 

The door opened, and it was Runner Five. Sam was surprised to see her; he'd lost sight of her in the crowd, and it didn't look like she'd been heading his way. “Oh, um... hello there?”

Sam's face felt warm, which was a first for that morning. He hadn't exchanged more than a word or two in passing with Five outside of the headset, and he found facing her in person unbelievably awkward. 

Five was slightly hunched over, her hands tucked inside her jacket near her stomach, and Sam immediately felt a stab of panic. Then, she drew out her hands and straightened, and presented him with a small, hastily wrapped parcel.

“It's not Christmas yet,” she said, and smiled, and her cheeks and nose were red and chapped from the cold, “but I thought you might need this. And, well, if you don't, they're worth a lot on the black market...”

“What?” Sam was still staring down at the wrinkled brown paper bundle in his hands, blinking at it like he had no idea what he was holding. 

“Open it,” she prompted. She tucked her hands into her pockets and chewed her lip.

Sam did, and found a thick pair of woolly socks, brand new, still with the tag on. There were gloves, too, the kind with the clever mitten flap at the end, so you could flip it back and be able to use your fingers properly. And...

“An earflap hat?” Sam barked out a laugh, and straight away put it on his head. It was hideous red plaid fleece, and wonderfully cozy. He thought he'd never take it off. “Five, I... wow, thank you!”

“Winter's coming,” she said with a shrug, but she looked pleased. “Can't have my operator freezing to death, now can I?”

There was something about the way she said 'my operator' that warmed Sam more than all the woolly socks in the world could do. He smiled at her, and when she broke out into a full grin, it was like a little breath of summer.


End file.
